


on the threshold

by dynamites



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Humor, Insomnia, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Post-Crimson Flower Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), au where hubert doesnt promptly propose after the war and hasnt come to terms with his Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22120282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dynamites/pseuds/dynamites
Summary: Byleth has settled into life after war in Enbarr but is troubled by a sudden bout of insomnia. She hasn't told him yet but somehow, she's certain Hubert can remedy this. Hopefully it won't be too presumptuous of her.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 17
Kudos: 97





	1. one.

It was profoundly unfortunate that the sleeping medication she obtained weren't working in the slightest. None of the balms, concoctions, or powders gave Byleth the results she would've like, and she suspected with a sort of reluctant acceptance that this was beyond the common insomnia. In retrospect, it seemed as though sleep had always evaded her to some degree, but nowadays, the repercussions of it felt more worse than ever. 

Grogginess hit her hard each morning, and pressing the dark, swollen areas under her eyes only confirmed that. She very much knew that some of this unrest could be chalked up to the new, incessant thump in her rib cage, but even with this understanding, it didn't make the beat that vibrated in her head at night any quieter. Even pressing her ear against her pillow felt overwhelming.

The absence of absolute silence was, at times, overwhelming.

With this ailment, it was more necessary than ever that Byleth threw herself into her work. Anything to be distracted from herself, because as events began to quiet, her noise began to conversely heighten.

She found herself taking more walks at midnight, both within the palace corridors and outside on the streets of Enbarr, whilst reflecting on the occurrences that have led up to this point. It was fascinating, if not a bit jarring, to know that everyone tolerated their heartbeats since birth.

But in comparison to feeling indifferent to whatever other fluid that ran through her veins up to this point, feeling and being human with a genuine heartbeat felt somehow a caliber harsher, hotter. 

She wondered how long it will take to be fully habituated. To the presence of the heartbeat and to the new dawn of peace, both, that is. There was something frightful in the way her heart would sometimes seize or beat viciously as emotions flooded her brain, the link between the two organs causing a complete visceral reaction that made her instinctively pull her hand up to her chest, as if to hold the pulsating thing steady.

It had happened two nights earlier, where she felt herself gripping the balcony railings of the palace that peered down into the main square, desperate for even a brief moment of repose. To any passerby, Byleth had hoped she just looked as though she was skimming the sights below before retiring to her chambers, but apparently this was not the case in the slightest because a warm, firm hand on her shoulder broke her out of her sudden vertigo and eased her away from the railing.

It was Ferdinand who appeared before her, with his eyes bright with worry and eyebrows furrowed. "Professor!" he said, a little loud and full of concern. "Are you alright?" His hand sidled down to grasp her upper arm, as if without his support, Byleth would have surely collapsed.

"Yes," she had answered, but she must've answered a second too slow because Ferdinand frowned and with a glance to the left, Byleth realized that Hubert was beside him as well. They must have come from a conference or some outing, it seemed, but she didn't ask. Instead, she simply said, "I'm just a little tired."

 _"Please,"_ said Ferdinand, lifting his hand and dropping it to his side. "You must not overexert yourself. One cannot do their best work fatigued! You--" He stopped himself short, and pursed his lips before carrying on. "I implore you, do retire for the evening."

Byleth blinked at this sudden outburst and found her gaze travelling towards Hubert, who only stared back with a sort of impassivity. He'd taken a step back to be slightly behind Ferdinand, as if to give the two some space. But even so, his head tilted at her silent address.

"I must agree," Hubert said in a familiar low rasp. "I shall ask Her Majesty to refrain from requesting your presence at the less... pressing matters. She will surely feel uneasy if you had fallen ill."

It was then, at that very moment, Byleth realized she hadn't seen Hubert in quite some time. Perhaps since the official declaration of the war's end. He had eluded Byleth-- whether intentional or not, she was uncertain-- since then, having had to fulfill separate assignments and attend conferences regarding separate issues. It was strange to think that it was only now, as he stood face-to-face with her, that she realized this.

She was more fortunate with Ferdinand, however, who sometimes reviewed similar affairs of territory and policy-making and who would take tea with her occasionally. 

She additionally didn't realize how much she missed her former students, like this. Or rather, her current allies. Her friends.

"Thank you," Byleth said, then paused. "I have missed seeing you two."

The candidness stunned the two men alike, it appeared, because Ferdinand shifted his weight between feet and Hubert's eyebrows quirked slightly upward. "And I, you, professor!" said Ferdinand with a smile.

"Likewise," said Hubert, albeit crisply. "Perhaps when things have settled, we may return to taking tea sometime."

Ferdinand glanced quickly at Hubert but he only kept his gaze fixated on her. "That would be fantastic development!"

Byleth had not expected him to make an offer like that either. She opened her mouth again, when the incessant beat of her heart crescendoed into her ears and her hand flew up to her collarbone instead. "Yes, let's," said Byleth, more puzzled than anything else and doing her best to keep the crease out of her visage whilst pressing down on the skin right below her collarbone. "All three of us, I hope."

Ferdinand beamed. "In that case, leave it to me. I will prepare it! Tell me, what do you fancy these days? In terms of tea, that is. Unless, of course, you would prefer coffee."

This comment elicited a mild scoff from Hubert. "If you want her to lose even more sleep than she likely already has, that seems like a superb idea, Ferdinand. I trust that you will brew something more mellow this time around." Then, with his pale eyes flickering back to Byleth, he spoke again. "I'd rather you lay low for a bit than be bedridden later. Do take care of your health, Byleth."

He pronounced her name interestingly, she remembered thinking. _By-leth_. Correctly, yes, but especially carefully, carefully enough to make her pay close attention.

At the time, Byleth just nodded. They, Ferdinand and Hubert, certainly got along now and it was genuinely very lovely to see. "I look forward to us meeting again. Please let me know when you two have the time."

With this positive promise for a gathering, the two men departed, nearly as swiftly and silently as they came with the sound of their boots making no sound on the corridor rugs. Ferdinand chatted loudly to compensate, and even as they disappeared around the corner, she could catch his clipped comments regarding her and how lovely it was to see her again.

But this did not bother her-- what bothered her primarily was her ailment. Byleth tapped her collarbone and only frowned.

Her heart was pulsing still, but she only knew this to occur when she trained and when she _fought_ ; when adrenaline dispersed through her body and kept her alert. It was bizarre to think that the presence of people could catalyze such a chemical reaction.

Was it what they said? Taking tea with either of them was certainly a normality at this stage, so there was no reason for her to feel _nervous_ at the prospect of one.

This was an issue that no one but herself could solve, undoubtedly. In that fateful day that Rhea died and Byleth awoke in Edelgard's embrace, she had already theorized that her lifespan was shortened. Somehow, Rhea's death was linked to her life form, and with that link snapped, who knew how susceptible to maladies she was to become? How _vulnerable_? 

Byleth's combat skills haven't deteriorated though, and that served as a bit of comfort, knowing that a sword still fit her grip with ease. But what she really should be honing was her magic. She had a startling thought as she walked back to her chambers.

She would put herself to sleep with magic. Yes, that's it. 

Not eternally, of course, and hopefully not for another five years but just... temporarily. Each night. A small spell to knock her out against her heart's will. She glanced down at her hands, and wiggled her fingers. 

Maybe...

Maybe it was better to confide in someone about this ploy before accidentally knocking herself out. She never used her magic abilities out of the battlefield, so perhaps turning to one of the Imperial physicians was still a better option altogether. Of course, she _could_ wait it out, wait until the heartbeat no longer served as a distraction and until the war was nothing but a surreal memory, but Byleth was itching for some respite.

The way Hubert had glanced her over was palpable in the same way Ferdinand's intonation was brimming with transparent concern. It was evident that she appeared weary even then, but she was unsure if anyone had caught on to the core of her issues.

Ideally, no one ever would, and symptoms would just dissipate on their own. She realized it would be bit hard to explain-- but then again, no harder than to explain how her hair changed colors.

Sometimes, Byleth thought she needed to get her priorities straightened out better.

In any case, that was all two days ago, but conditions had not changed since then despite the day of rest that Hubert had graciously granted for her. Since then, she feared she truly was becoming sick with an infection, and not just a mind disease. 

Determined to settle this herself, she wound up in the palace library, skimming the shelves for intersectional home remedy and sorcery books. The collection was certainly different to some degree to the collection at Garreg Mach, which had been carefully curated.

Yes, this was different. There was less on lore and the fantastical lives of mythical beasts and heroes, and significantly more shelves were filled with contemporary literature and introspective pieces.

In fact, the content and atmosphere of the two libraries were so unequivocally different that it nearly felt blasphemous to even compare them side-by-side. 

(Byleth would read more of the contemporary fiction held here in the palace, but she always felt a little bored when novels had no pictures.)

Most of what she had been looking for were on shelves high above her head, rendering her a bit short and having to stretch onto her tiptoes to tease a book out of its slot. Byleth would have preferred to use a chair, but the stools were nowhere to be found and the scholars around always gave her a glare when she used a regular wooden chair to hoist herself up to eye level.

Of course, their perception of her hardly mattered at all, but peeved and self-righteous old people were always a kind of bother so she simply did her best on her feet for the time being. 

Byleth pulled out a thin pamphlet from a lower shelf and flipped through, namely for its striking and meticulously drawn plant diagrams on the cover. Tisanes, the plant herbs were for. Specific herbs to be steeped in hot water then to be drunk daily.

That was not a particularly bad idea. If she knew the components better, then she could even enhance their effects and create a profoundly potent brew that could, hypothetically, tranquilize a horse.

Surely it would have the same effect on her by then. 

It had to be noted that liquor had that effect on her, in fact. Manuela had suggested it-- _prescribed_ it as medicine, even-- when Byleth let an offhanded comment about her insomnia escape her on one encounter. But without fail, the effects of it always grated her nerves in the morning despite the initial restfulness it brought. Months before she obtained a heartbeat it did, at the very least.

And social drinking was something else entirely so Byleth, in all honesty, liked to keep that to a minimum. 

Byleth squinted up at the shelf above again. A peculiar book sat up there, with a red spine that glittered with golden curlicues, and out of nothing but aesthetics, she wanted it. It seemed distinctly out of place in the health and medicine section of the library with its fanciful design, but purposely so. She got on her tiptoes again and strained. Her fingertips brushed against the buckram cover.

Her mind fluttered back to the encounter with Ferdinand and Hubert the other day. Since then, she had not seen either of them but that was to be expected. What was interesting had been Hubert's addressal of her. _By-leth_. Since when had he transitioned to referring to her with her name now? 

To Byleth's recollection, everyone still referred to her as their professor, save for Edelgard. Perhaps it was just especially odd now, given their similar ages, and he had realized this. Byleth found this a little amusing, and a small smile pulled at the edges of her mouth. 

Back to the matter at hand: the red-spined book. Maybe it was best if she just jumped. Byleth did not dare glance back at the scholars behind her to see if they were watching or not as she bent her knees and leaped. Books collapsed into each other as she tugged the red one out and wiped its cover before evaluating its contents.

The heels of her boots made an audible clack as they hit the ground, whose echoes reverberated across the tiles loud enough she had to look down to make sure she didn't crack the floors. 

Byleth feigned innocence as she retrieved the fallen home remedy pamphlet off the floor and planned her escape route (which really just meant a fast walk past the old Imperial scholars who were surely annoyed by now). 

She took a futile step back from the shelves and flipped the book over. There was no title on the cover and spine, nor nothing in the back, but instead there was a large engraving of the stylized heart organ. Perhaps this was exactly what she needed. A self-care piece with no words, just pictures. Ideally. On face value, it hardly seemed related to her current strife with insomnia but even looking at the nice curlicues rendered her a bit more at ease.

"Goodness," she heard a voice drawl from behind, their inflection cool and indifferent. "All that for a book? Should've just used a _ladder_." 

_Ah_. There it was, she had surmised, griping. It was such a pointed statement, that immediately, she knew it was a statement directed towards her. Another lecture from an Imperial librarian and their posse. Byleth pivoted around begrudgingly, holding the two works in each hand and suppressing a sigh. "I... would like to borrow these-- oh."

She had to tilt her chin up to see the entire visage of the person confronting her but it was still startling enough to pull a small, confused sound from her. At that very moment, her heartbeat was loud again, loud enough that she was almost certain they could hear it too. But it was not surprise that crawled up her spine alongside the pulsing, but rather a strange sense of embarrassment like she had been caught doing something extraordinarily shameful, and not jumping for a book off a particularly high shelf.

It appeared so eerily coincidental that she had just been thinking of him, that she could only knit her brows. 

But the person in question gave no indication that he knew of Byleth's thoughts. 

"Hubert," she said in greeting and lowered the two objects in hand.

"Or asked," continued Hubert. "There is no harm in requesting help. But, I see the deed is done."

He had not expected to see her in the library. The feeling was mutual, expressed through the way her eyes widened and mouth parted.

But to be quite honest, Hubert did not expect to see her much these days. She frequented the training grounds as if the silent reign of those who slithered in the dark had not been wholly terminated yet, and that was one location that Hubert rarely found himself-- for leisure at least.

If there was such a thing still. 

And despite the apparent dark circles underneath her eyes, her eyes themselves still glittered feverishly as she glanced upon him and her posture was straight, proud.

She was content in her condition. Not sickly, he thought, but _sated_. Like she had just seen something particularly wondrous and it left a gleam in her. Or done something particularly wondrous herself.

It must have been a blip then, that moment when he and Ferdinand encountered her leaning over the balcony railings, looking ragged; and Hubert had no doubts that her clandestine trips out of the palace at night played a part in this.

Of course he knew of them. To be fair, he, save for the guards, should be the only one to know of them. He had observed her before from the upper floors, slink off through the gates and into Enbarr. What activities took place, Hubert had no idea, for he trusted that they were private matters. Private, personal matters that he should not be privy to, anyway. 

After all, there was no need for the information. She had proven herself time and time again to be devoted to the Empire just as he was to Lady Edelgard. Tending to her own affairs was her own right. In any case, he never stayed out long enough to know-- or rather, to _care_ \-- when she returned to the Imperial Palace, but she always did. 

He forced those thoughts out of his mind. 

Hubert must have been staring too intently because Byleth broke eye contact. Her gaze tipped away, which he found unsettling because she, out of all people, hardly ever looked away. 

Something had changed, evidently, in her disposition. Ever since _then_ , he supposed. 

"Are you still ill?" Hubert attempted bluntly, vying to wring some response out of her.

Byleth blinked, undoubtedly evaluating his question. "Maybe," was her ambiguous reply. "I'm trying to find out." He knew that she, other than the lack of sleep, should be in good health, but the way she reacted seemed to imply otherwise.

How mystifying. He did not bother to hide the disbelief as he cocked his head to the side. "Trying to find out... certainly, it may be more effective to request the presence of a licensed healer." He eyed her books with doubt. 

Byleth's eyebrows twitched, knitting, as she shook her head. "No," she said. "This is more mental."

"You seem to presume diseases of the brain are not diseases of the body as well."

This made her hesitate. "I _have_ gone to the physicians."

"Other than Manuela, I mean."

"Yes," she said, a little humored now. "I've gone to others."

"... If you are so sure, then. I'll leave you to your bidding. Good--"

"Oh, I'd like to ask," said Byleth in interjection all of a sudden. "How is Ferdinand?"

 _How is Ferdinand?_ What an odd inquiry. It was not as though they were connected at the hip even with the friendship that blossomed during hardship. "In good health," Hubert said, watchful of her reaction.

"That is good," she replied. Then, she smiled. "Goodbye, Hubert."

He only dipped his head in response. It was only when she passed him by, with her cape fluttering past, Hubert brought his head back up. With that, he watched her leave and wondered if she will leave the palace tonight as well. 

* * *

She was definite in her imminent actions as she sped out of the library. For a moment, during that exchange, her heartbeat was audible yet again for no apparent reason, but _now_ it beat for a much more transparent cause.

All Byleth required now was some finesse in vocalizing her wants. _There is no harm in requesting help,_ he had said to her. She trusted Hubert and he, her. Her fingers tightened on the self-care books that she obtained.

Yes, she will use magic to ameliorate her tiresome insomnia. But not her own, _Hubert's_.

It seemed right to confide in him of her malaise. He wouldn't express any needless concern if she requested him to comb through her brain and render her unconscious. Right?

Now, if only there was a way she could bring him to her chambers at night without appearing in any way _dubious_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you think you have an inkling on how it's all gonna go down, you're probably right! this is my attempt at a self-indulgent Medium burn with our local gaunt goth so thanks for reading :--) feel free to drop a comment if you've got any thoughts on this!


	2. two

The sun was so warm, too warm for this time of the year.

Her cloak laid haphazardly over the back of her chair, and Byleth tried her best to pay attention to the person in front of her and not the heat beating down on the crown of her head.

"It's such a shame, you know." Fingers tapped on the wooden cafe table. "A shame that we don't meet up more often."

As it turned out, chamomile tea on its own was not potent enough to even spare her a healthy seven hours of sleep. She had gone down to the harbor-side bazaar to find the next best supplement-- only to find something better.

"It can't be helped."

 _Dorothea_.

"Yes-- with you in court and me at the opera house, perhaps, but _still!"_

"I know what you mean," Byleth said and Dorothea, from across the table, hummed. "How has going back to opera been going for you?"

"It's certainly a change," replied Dorothea, "but I'm resettling in quite nicely, if I do say so myself."

Byleth nodded.

"I hadn't expected to find you here, at the market," Dorothea continued, in blunt confession. "It's already so hard to find you sometimes in the palace."

"Sorry," she offered, but Dorothea just shook her head.

"Are you looking to buy something for yourself? For others?"

"I was... just looking." Byleth brought a hand up to rub the back of her neck. "What about you?"

"Me too," she said. "It's good to indulge ourselves, once in a while."

Byleth pressed a faint smile. "Yes. You deserve it, Dorothea."

"Not anymore than you, I'd say," she replied. "Have you ever taken a break? Refused an assignment?"

"I have," said Byleth, startled. "I stepped down from commanding the emergency battalions. Two moons ago." Ever since then, insomnia ailed her but it was curious how she managed to sleep better then than now. Uprisings against the empire across Fodlan became rarer and more disorganized, and when she stepped down, she heard that the soldiers simply merged into the general army force. "I feel like I have more time than I know what to do with."

She brought her elbows up on the table and rested her chin on her palms. "In that case, come watch me perform sometime," she said, then adding, "I'm near certain I can make you shed a tear with this show, you know. We'll be performing until the end of the moon but please do make some time for it."

"What sort of show is it?"

"A romance. I know, I know-- trite, you may think. But it's got all the trimmings of a drama, a comedy, and an action piece. There's a little something for everyone, I'd say."

"Oh." She blinked.

"Is that a yes?" pressed Dorothea.

"I'll be there," Byleth told her. "Of course. Is there a showing this weekend?"

Dorothea seemed to brighten, her shoulders loosening and slacking. "Yes! There'll be two evening shows-- I can send you a flyer tomorrow. Bring someone, if you'd like! Or come alone. Or better yet, bring several. I love seeing familiar faces in the crowd." She paused. "Unless..."

"Unless?" 

" _Unless_ you'd like to bring someone I'm not familiar with." Dorothea shrugged. "I'd love to get acquainted. I'm sure you've met all sorts of interesting people in Enbarr already."

It felt a little odd to admit that beyond the government officials and the visiting former students and the children who sneakily frequent the training grounds vying for some training, she rendezvoused largely with the stray cats at night. But, she relented. "Well...," she said, not meaning to sound vague. "We'll see."

To this, Dorothea let out a sparkling laughter. "We'll see, indeed."

That all took place in the afternoon and when Byleth saw Dorothea off to the opera house, she forewent returning to the bazaar and simply walked back to the palace, feeling the heat finally lift off her shoulders, her head.

* * *

  
The air that night was warm and sweet as she waded through the palace gardens, and also nearly palpable in the way it weighed down on her eyelids. She never recalled sleeping outside to feel this comfortable, but Enbarr's proximity to water allowed temperatures to stay moderate between night and day, and so she often had an inclination to do so-- to lie down in the grass and feel the rustle of the wind on her face as she slept.

It was long past midnight, and she knew that if she did not make a commitment, a genuine effort to fall asleep, she would soon see daybreak.

She stepped off the pathway. It glittered with opaque white stones, as if to compete with the stars in the sky and she found herself looking to and fro several times. The urge to sleep outside had become especially bad only recently, and so did the desire for a change in scenery. While grateful for the permanent residency in the capital, Byleth's interests lied elsewhere. Where, exactly, was yet to be discovered. The moonlight, for now, determined her path through the garden.

At the same time, departing seemed premature, not to mention to some degree of inconsiderate. To abruptly leave while the emperor herself was still diligently traveling across the terrains of Fodlan, greeting citizens and reconstructing infrastructures-- it was almost selfish. Byleth slowly brought herself to her knees on the grass while nursing these thoughts. 

It had been more than a week since she picked up the books at the library. One of them had been a pamphlet for herbs and their suggested usage in tisanes; the other had mistakenly been a book on pregnancy and how to fare when expecting a child. 

The cover, thought Byleth with profound regret, was unbelievably misleading. She had not yet found the time to retrieve the herbal supplements in the markets nor return the accursed red-spined book so for the time being, both works remained wholly unread back in her designated chambers.

Placing a hand over her heart, she felt for the stable rhythm. Then, she moved her fingers up and over to the side of her neck, where she found would amplify the beat dramatically.

The question of her future was always hovering above her head. Where would she go? Where _should_ she go? Or was it time settle down... after all, she could hardly call herself a impartial mercenary now. That facet of hers hadn't reared its head for a long while now and to be bitterly frank, she didn't entirely see it in her future either. 

Life at court-- she was perfectly capable at it. She always said what needed to be said and did what needed to be done in a reasonable amount of time. But this life of reading and writing and debating, it was much more domestic than what she had grown up with. 

Her father would have been somewhat amused at this turn of events, to see her now a person of the court. But would he have been disappointed? Byleth felt a cold accumulation of sadness in the pit of her stomach that she wished away wistfully, tenderly, as she shut her eyes and focused on her breathing.

Her mother's ring was was always tucked safely away in the depths of her satchel. She rarely took it out unless it was to hold it fiercely in her fist for a moment. 

The prospect of marrying, brought on by the memory of her father and his love for her mother, was foreign still. It was not inaccurate to say that it intrigued her. Not the presumed domesticity nor the stability, but the companionship, the unconditional fidelity. That was something she would not mind at all.

Not that she really had anyone in mind. These were hypothetical circumstances she conjured up, of course. She leaned far back, unfolding her legs from underneath her and falling onto the neatly clipped grass comfortably. Then, she shut her eyes so that the only scenes she saw were those she projected onto the back of her eyelids. Her fingers rested on her stomach, loosely interlocked with one another.

Was it idleness that caused her to imagine these things? A particular restlessness, driven by the life in court and not in battle? Maybe. Or maybe it wasn't any of those things at all. 

But it mattered not-- she was never much of a planner anyway. 

And somehow among all that, she'd fallen asleep in the garden, atop a small slope and some ways off the stone path. In all that, she similarly did not stop to think if people could see her from the windows either.

In the breeze, on the grass, she slept. It was one of the better nights in a long, long while. 

She awoke more or less an hour later, to a singular, violent clap of thunder.

It was the first and only warning she received from the swollen clouds above before it began to downpour-- the sky had been so dark that at first, Byleth wasn't sure if dawn break yet or not. By the time Byleth arrived at the front of her chambers’ door, rivulets of water were still slipping down her hair and skin, puddling at her shoes. She did not dare to look back at the trail of wet footsteps she must have left on the rugs.

Dragging a hand over her face and grasping for a towel with the other, she peeled off all of the sodden clothing promptly after shutting the door with a heavy creak. She hung up every article of clothing on every which makeshift hook and railing in her room, so that she was left in her undergarments in the well insulated room.

And despite knowing how her attempt at slumber would pan out, she still slipped under the covers, wordlessly thinking and breathing and just _listening_. To the thunder, the downpour, her heart-- she listened to it all. 

When she got up a few hours later, to put on a new, _dry_ attire whilst still profoundly groggy and hoping desperately her cloak had dried, she almost did not heed the knocking on her door. She scrambled to put on her leggings and forewent the boots for now.

“Professor?” called someone from outside the door. They knocked thrice, politely. “It is Ferdinand!”

Byleth stared quizzically at the door before pulling forward to unlock it. Ferdinand half-stumbled in, panting a bit. His hair was slightly damp and began to frizz and if the towel she held in her hand wasn’t still sodden, she would have offered it to him. 

“It has come to my attention that we cannot take tea in the courtyard at noon as intended since— oh, you’re— you’re drenched!” he began to trail off. An apologetic shadow crossed his visage and his eyebrows knit deeply. “You had not been waiting for Hubert and I, had you? I have not yet gotten to him.”

“No,” she confirmed.

“What a relief. Well, with this weather, I suppose we’ll have to rain check. I just thought it would be most dignified if I brought the news myself." He grimaced. "Such a shame."

She thought for a moment before jerking a thumb over her shoulder, further into her room. At the center, several steps away from Byleth's bed, stood a small, round wooden table. She only had two chairs, but the addition of one more could easily be arranged. Worst case scenario, someone would sit on her bed. "We could host it here."

At this, Ferdinand's eyebrows jumped. "You cannot be serious. Professor, there is no need to impose--"

"There is no imposing," she interjected, "I offered."

He hesitated, to either consider this or suppress his bubbling enthusiasm, and she only waited patiently.

"If you are so certain, I would be delighted," he said finally, fairly pleased. "I shall return at noon sharp."

"I'll leave the door unlocked, then. Would you like any help in bringing the teaware?"

"Not at all," he said. "But if you could, maybe fetch Hubert at that time."

"Oh! Alright," she said with a tilted gaze. "Do you happen to know where he'd be, at noon?"

"Hm. I should guess his chambers."

"Understood," she responded before excusing herself, and for a sliver of a moment, it seemed more like she was taking an order than answering a friend. 

* * *

Just as Byleth had said, her chambers were unlocked by the time he arrived. He had still _knocked_ , for good measure, before opening the door with great relish. Ferdinand then picked up the tray from the ground and delicately shuffled in, careful to not spill nor drop a single item off it. 

Despite the sparseness and spaciousness of Byleth's room, he still felt as though he was about to trip-- whether it be on the various articles of clothing on the floor or the miscellaneous gadgets she had rolling around.

Spotting the round table at the center of the room, he headed for it hastily. Circling it stood three wooden desk chairs with flat backs, and he was so caught up with how one of them was considerably more flared, and intricate than the others in terms of design, that he failed to notice his surroundings.

From the momentum of Ferdinand's turn, his dense cape fluttered high up and a red-spined book flew off the edge of Byleth's desk before tumbling open onto the floor. It landed with a loud _clunk_ against the floorboards.

Ferdinand then yelped to no one but himself. He hurriedly put the tiered tray down on the round table before turning back to sweep the book up, intending to replace it back to its rightful place on her desk just as it had been before.

But the book had fell open, and Ferdinand's eyes couldn't help but skim the text, even briefly. The moment slowed when his gaze hit the slightly-crinkled pages.

 _Chapter 5,_ read the page to the left. Ferdinand hurriedly moved his thumb out of the way of the finer print. _The Perfect Dietary Regime for the Pregnant_.

The pregnant.

_The pregnant?_

Ferdinand read that line a few more times before flipping further, unable to restrain himself in his bewilderment. 

_... nausea and vomiting, all very common symptoms and indicators of a healthy carry..._

_... take in fluids regularly, for you require an increased intake to avoid dehydration..._

This... could not be. He gasped audibly in the empty room, sweetened by the fruit tea he had just brewed. But Ferdinand knew no one else with the prospect of bearing a child-- Edelgard was much too busy to consider settling down any time soon, if _ever_ ; and Dorothea-- well, Dorothea just could not be.

No, this was most likely not a case of the professor reading up on material to assist another.

He tried to conjure up the image of the professor, slipping out the door to fetch Hubert. She could not possibly be pregnant-- she certainly did not _look_ the part.

And yet, there was little doubt she would take to the role of a mother seamlessly. His head swam.

It did sting a little, to realize she did not feel entirely comfortable with professing her new condition aloud to him, nor anyone yet. Unless, of course, this was new development and she intended to tell him and Hubert over tea today.

This sent Ferdinand's heart fluttering. No matter who the other parent was, the fact that she had found someone so terrific to bear their child-- it was _endearing_. He clutched the book firmly, but gently, in his fingers, and smiled dumbly.

And what a studious, conscientious mother she would be. She was always a bit of an enigma, but _this_ \-- this would render her a degree more human.

Hubert will certainly be shocked by this turn of events when she verbalizes the news. Yes, Ferdinand could see it now, Hubert choking on his coffee and muttering his attempts at felicitations in the awkward, stiff fashion he does and--

"Ferdinand, we're here!" 

At the outburst, Ferdinand snapped the book and practically slapped it back onto the desk, whirling around to confront the voice all-the-while. "Welcome!" he said in a fast mumble, stepping back with haste to make space for the two that entered the room.

Byleth entered first, with Hubert fast on her heels. She must have not seen the book in his hands thanks to his back being turned because she made no comment and simply took a seat at the small center table.

"Hubert! Glad you could make it," said Ferdinand, keeping his back to the desk and letting his hands slip behind to push the books farther from the edge.

"Ferdinand. A pleasure," he answered in greeting.

"Well," she said. "Shall I pour everyone a cup to start?"

Ferdinand nearly leaped over to take the pot away. "Please," he said, "allow me. Hubert? Would you like a cup?"

"No, thank you," said Hubert coolly. Hubert took a seat to Byleth's right, so Ferdinand settled for her left. Hubert had taken the particularly different seat that Byleth must have dragged in upon the realization she only had two chairs.

As Ferdinand poured her, then himself a cup, before taking to deal with Hubert's coffee, he watched out of the corner of his eye the professor lean over the table slightly, reaching for a biscuit. Her eyes were bright as she took a bite.

"It's been so long," she said, "since I had a sweet like this."

"What do you think of it?" replied Ferdinand, keen.

She blinked. "I love it. I could eat this all day. Hubert, you should try it."

Hubert exhaled, brief and clipped. To Ferdinand's amazement, he then uttered, "If you insist."

"Lemon and honey," she said, around the biscuit. "I love that combination."

"You have got great taste, professor," said Ferdinand, bringing the cup to his lips. He felt nervous, like he was privy to a secret that was not yet intended to be shared. He caught himself staring at her momentarily, as a result of being too expectant of the seemingly inevitable. Whether or not she noticed, she gave no indication.

“Actually," he continued, "when I went to the market to buy this honey, the shopkeeper was with child! Twins, in fact, she said. And apparently, one is not to give honey to infants under some months old. Fascinating, no?”

Hubert broke the biscuit into two, leaving a half on his plate as he brought the other to his lips. “You didn’t request it to be shipped to the palace?”

“Er, no, not this time. But never mind that, it was the shopkeeper that was strange, because she did not appear pregnant at all despite being nearly due. According to her, that is.”

“You were looking?” Byleth asked in jest.

“I did not intend to _scrutinize_ , professor,” he defended. “But to have children… it would be a blessing. I think.”

He was met with yet another undisturbed silence and it did not help that neither of his companions were the especially talkative types.

“Are you confessing something, Ferdinand?” Hubert finally broke, glancing warily at him.

“What? Me? No, no!” A pressed chortle left him. “I speak abstractly.” When Ferdinand met Hubert's gaze, he noticed the humored, if not _curious_ glint in his eyes.

“Twins,” said Byleth unexpectedly, with more quietude than before. It was the kind of voice that made the two men settle and pay close attention lest something changed in the atmosphere without them knowing.

Ferdinand held his breath and uncrossed his legs. This was it.

“Could you imagine?” she continued. “Giving birth to _two_ infants? Must be extraordinarily painful.” She popped the rest of the honey confectionery in her mouth. 

Or not.

She spoke so lightly, so far removed from the topic, that it hardly gave an indication of her own predicament. Ferdinand pressed on.

Hubert cleared his throat. "It's certainly not a scenario I have spent much time pondering over.”

Ferdinand takes a sip, looking to and fro between Hubert and Byleth. "Nor I. But it makes me respect those who bear children, all the more." He wondered if he was being too forthright now. However, Byleth only hummed in agreement. "And to think that one day I would be here, taking tea with both of you and talk aimlessly about childbirth," said Ferdinand, with a chuckle. "Unfathomable."

"You two can talk to me about anything; I'll listen," Byleth affirmed.

"What a professor-like response," said Hubert. "I don't suppose you still think of us as your students?"

Byleth entertained this question with some thought, her gaze going distant. "For the most part, no," she said. "My teaching gig was so... short-lived. I'm actually a bit surprised some still consider me so highly."

"I had never learned so much from one individual as I did from you," said Ferdinand, words tinged with shock at her confession. "I could never think otherwise."

Hubert's pale eyes traced upwards to her expression, turning his cheek ever so. "So addressing you with your name is considered an affront?" 

Byleth turned her chin towards Hubert so that Ferdinand, who sat slightly across, only saw their strong side profiles. "Not at all," she said, reflective. "It's what I'm used to. If you think of me as your equal, I would acknowledge it."

Hubert did not react much viscerally; he just brought his cup to his lips again, and with that, whatever change of his expression was promptly masked by white porcelain.

On the other hand, Ferdinand was beginning to feel a bit _antsy_.

When was she to say it? Perhaps he really did uncover something that was not meant to surface any time soon.

But _surely,_ this news was something to celebrate? Ferdinand let a few lines of idle chat escape him before his gaze refocuses on her hands. Her hands, callused and marred with scars, held the teacup up. None of her fingers wore a ring. 

He felt hollow the moment he realized he had anticipated a wedding band. Or some sort of engagement ring. Ferdinand hears a chime of laughter and a low chuckle but the joke must have passed him by much too quickly. Then, she spoke again, her voice ended with a high inflection, signalling an inquiry. He used to think she acted and spoke monotonously, but at some point, he realized she really was rather emotive-- but only if you knew where to _look_.

"You...," he whispered, and then jerked his head up in the silence that ensued. His eyes met Byleth's, then Hubert's. "Oh, apologies. I was just thinking to myself. Continue, please."

Byleth coughed into her elbow. "I was just asking if you two would like to go watch Dorothea's show with me this weekend."

He felt a twinge of guilt at this. "I would, but..."

She looked at him with a tilted gaze, prompting him to continue.

"But I have already gone-- erm, twice. Once, for the plot, you know, it is quite a riveting story and all; and a second time for the music." Ferdinand shrugged sheepishly. "I do insist you still go." 

Hubert's eyes thinned out at his response. "Twice? Ridiculous," he said, shaking his head, but admittedly there was little bite in his inflection.

She turned her chin to the right to face Hubert. "What about you? Have you seen it already?"

Hubert looked away for a breath. "I have not. But I'm afraid I'm not much of a companion when it comes to watching opera pieces, in any case."

"Me too," said Byleth, "but I'd like to support Dorothea." Her arm reached over again to pluck a biscuit off a tray, but as she did so, her clothing brushed against Hubert's arm. "Excuse me," she said.

As she got up this time, Ferdinand blurted, "I think you two should go. It is a delightful piece! The effort gone into it is astounding." He began to stare at Hubert, hoping that, telepathically, he'll understand to take Byleth's offer. 

"I'll try to go, regardless," offered Byleth. "You're free to join me, though."

"I'll consider it," Hubert said simply. Noncommittally. 

Ferdinand just watched, astounded by Hubert's crude behavior. "You must certainly go, Hubert! What, would you prefer our professor go alone?"

"Um," said Byleth, taken aback with how her eyebrows shot up high. "It's fine, _really--"_

An annoyed, tired noise escaped from Hubert. "Surely, the invitation has been extended beyond us two, Byleth? You're a popular woman as it is."

"No?" she answered. "I've only asked you two. I met Dorothea just yesterday. I suppose I'm trailing somewhat behind on the events going on in Enbarr to only have found out now." With this, she looked down, appearing almost uncomfortable. 

Now Hubert had certainly gone and _humiliated_ the professor, rejecting her like that. 

Ferdinand opened his mouth, about to offer to watch it with her again, but Hubert interjected cleanly.

"Well. It wouldn't hurt to watch, would it?" Hubert broke finally. His jaw worked like he clenched it between words. His porcelain cup clinked against the plate. "I must reinforce that I don't particularly care for performances much. But I will go, if it pleases you." 

She lifted her head. "Dorothea will be happy to see you," Byleth said, her voice mild. "Do it for her, not me." 

Ferdinand observed as Hubert blinked slow, with a faint twitch of the eyebrows that Byleth missed as she turned her attention to her second biscuit. "Certainly," said Hubert, before resuming to a familiar, warm quietude.

"More tea or coffee, anyone?" asked Ferdinand, and that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ferdinand pov, i know, strange!!! but this is a one time thing don't worry. also to clarify, no love triangles or ot3 here! we just needed an intermediary here sorry ferdie:--( everyone has to add to the pot of misunderstanding... you know how it goes


End file.
